Heaven's HalfHour
by SydnieWren
Summary: The night before the ascension to Hueco Mundo, Gin enjoys his last hour with Izuru, and reflects on the nature of his loss. Angst, lemon. Reference to voyeurism and other Aizen-related kink.


**Hey guys! This is a pairing I got into through a good friend who was recently accepted to a very prestigious Californian University. Go, Anna Tamashiro! So this can be thought of as a congratulatory gift, though it's dark as usual. I really, really hope you guys enjoy it!**

**Furthermore, I do have something of a sequel in mind for this - so review and let me know what you think! Thanks for the read!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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_May you always have a blanket o'er your body,  
A pillow 'neath your head,  
And may you be in heaven a full half-hour  
Before the Devil knows you're dead._

_-Irish Toast _

Gin peered at the stars through his spread fingers. With one hand he played such games, and with the other he held Izuru close to him, savoring the midnight silence. The blond was awake, nude, having been engaged in various acts of intimacy for the last hours, and suitably relaxed. Their bodies were pressed flush together; Gin could feel the faint fluttering heartbeat with every breath Izuru took. Those ribs felt so delicate, the captain thought, so brittle, like glass harp strings barely wrapped in flesh.

Outside, the air was incredibly still. The wide moon seemed hung there in the sky, fixed, a screen settled over the blackness of eternity, dotted with stars.

"One more time?" Gin ran his fingers through the limp strands of blond spread over his pillow. Izuru shifted onto his elbows to peer down at his captain.

"It's different tonight, isn't it?" he murmured, seeking out a semblance of expression in Gin's face.

"In terms a' volume, I'd say," came the half-chuckled response.

"I mean it," Izuru answered quietly, his brows knitting together.

Gin pressed a slim finger to his vice captain's lips, stilling him and just barely shielding them from what they both knew to be true: that the night was different, almost frenzied in its search for a moment of peace, with all the makings of a good-bye.

Silenced, Izuru again pressed his body against his captain's, fitting bone against bone, flesh with flesh. He laid his cheek against the taller man's chest and Gin wondered vaguely how something so arguably perfect, so decent and pleasurable and indescribably satisfying had become a secret.

Then again, he considered, Aizen had a way of causing such distortions.

"What are you thinking about?" Izuru breathed, trailing his fingertips over the ridge of Gin's collarbone.

"Aizen," Gin replied lightly, sensitive to the tension that formed quite suddenly in his vice captain at the mere mention of the name.

"What about him?"

"Jus' a funny guy, is all. Real queer fella."

"Has he found out, is that it?" Izuru again took to his elbows and gazed down at his lover in concern.

"No, no. He dunno," Gin assured him.

But he wasn't sure. Perhaps Aizen knew - he had figured out stranger and more obscure items of truth to be sure. Gin propped himself up on his forearm and turned to his vice captain, sliding his hand down to rest on the soft indentation of his waist, hovering just barely above his hip.

"Have I ever told ya about my firs' time?"

"No," Izuru admitted, bringing his hand to rest lightly on Gin's. "What happened?"

Izuru was the sort of person, Gin had come to find, that one could confess anything to in full confidence. Regardless he had been up until that point rather spare with the details he shared with the blond - after all, full safes were the first ones cracked. Yet, he supposed, since the time was nigh for leaving, and Aizen would be a literal world away from the other, it couldn't be too dangerous...

"Guess I started goin' through it, y'know, puberty - started havin' 'em wet dreams, an' well. I wanted a good fuck, an' I guess he sensed it."

Izuru looked presently terrified. Gin laughed.

"No, no, no. He didn't fuck me or anything. He watched, though."

Gin could remember the scene perfectly: Aizen reclining on some pillows, kiseru pipe between his teeth. Gin, a lanky and vigorous teenager, stood naked, stroking his hypersensitive sex to hardness. Aizen had managed to round up a toy of his, some unfortunate and nameless fourth-division step-'n-fetch boy to serve as Gin's first. According to Aizen, Gin's urges had begun to distract him - the quality of his work had slipped as his nights subsided to fruitless dreaming and his days became repeated attempts to scratch that ever-present itch just barely out of reach of a slick palm.

_Go ahead_, Aizen had said. _Work out all of your - frustrations._

Gin had held the boy's hips, touched his hair, lubricated his entrance with his own pre-ejaculate. Of course he hadn't lasted long - perhaps a few minutes? Aizen had laughed good-naturedly, or as close to it as he was capable of.

_It's alright, Gin. Go ahead, go ahead - again, if you like. We've all night. As long as you need, really._

"You didn't even know him?" Izuru gasped, a tinge of despair edging at his wide eyes.

"Not even a name," Gin nodded. "Real odd stuff like that, Aizen's inta. Got strange - morals, I guess, around the whole thing. Gotta have control."

Izuru gingerly brought his captain's fingertips to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to them; Gin sensed then that it was with tender-hearted sympathy that Izuru presently regarded him.

"I'm glad it wasn't that way...with us."

"Me too," Gin replied with that same eerie grin, "it's really a whole lot better without anybody lookin' on, y'know. Just us."

As if to ensure their privacy, Izuru tugged the sheets up around the two, pulling them from their thighs to their waists. Gin's hand slid downward, trailing over the flat plane of his stomach to the indent of his thigh, where the skin became softer than silk and many times as pale. As their lips met, tongues shyly touching, Gin took his lover's softened sex in his palm, kneading the flesh until it began to stiffen. Izuru held him, his fingers tightening on the sharp angle of his hip as his pulse began to quicken.

"Gin..." Izuru breathed, his eyes impossibly wide and deeply blue in the clear, still moonlight. He shifted onto his back imperceptibly; before Gin could note the movement, he was above his vice captain, straddling his narrow hips, engaged in a kiss so searingly passionate that it amplified the exposure of moments before; he felt more bare in Izuru's presence then than he ever had in anyone's.

The sheets fell away. Izuru's slender legs came up to drape about Gin's hips, drawing him closer. The blond gasped as droplets of warm liquid dripped onto his stomach; he hadn't known his captain was so - aroused.

Gin, meanwhile, was gasping for Izuru, drinking him in, his tongue exploring every inch of his willing mouth, his hands rapidly spreading over his body, the sensitive pink nipples, the delicate ribs, the narrow waist, and finally, the pulsing sex. Izuru's hips bucked into the touch and he gave a soft moan; Gin could feel his own flesh pounding for contact.

There was a pause - a moment of shuffling - Izuru finally retrieved the little glass vial, half-empty from the night's exertions. Gin drenched his fingers in the fluid as though it was their first time in years, preparing to ready Izuru for an encounter of such intensity. With tenderness strained only by the desperation of the moment, Gin pressed a finger carefully into his lover's entrance, wringing a soft cry from the blond. When the second joined the first, Izuru spread his legs wide, rolling his hips to accept the touch.

Izuru's hands found Gin's shoulders somewhere in the frenzy. Slim, trembling fingers wrapped around them, holding him tightly; meanwhile, Gin plucked his own fingers from his lover's pulsing channel, barely able to restrain himself as he positioned the tip of his sex at the slick entrance.

Gin fit inside Izuru; there was no other way he could imagine describing it. His lover's snug walls yielded just enough to allow him to press in to the hilt, fully sheathing his sex in the tight warmth. Izuru's heels bore into the ground as he spread his legs open, bringing his narrow hips up to meet Gin, accepting all his captain could give him, and panting with the onslaught of sensation.

"Ah - Gin, ah - ah -" Izuru's gasps became a strained mantra through his clenched teeth; his fingers still bore into his lover's sharp shoulders. Gin pressed his lips to the white flesh of his neck and began to form a mark, nearly shaking with the exertion of remaining still long enough for Izuru to adjust.

When their rhythm began it was impeccable, a tempo native to both of them and well-practiced to boot. Gin's thrusts came quick and deep; Izuru's hips rose each time to meet him, and the resultant angle brushed that spot inside the blond that made him cry out and toss his head on the pillow, begging for more, faster, deeper. Suddenly Izuru brought his legs up, crossing his calves over his captain's narrow back, forcing him so deep into his body that it sucked the breath out of him in a long, sharp cry. Gin's hands clenched and then trembled, coming up to grasp both sides of his lover's pale face as he forced their lips together again, in one last crushing, desperate kiss as he spilled his seed inside Izuru, riding out his orgasm in what felt like a hundred little jolts of his hips. The blonde quickly followed, full, impassioned, trapped and delirious with the ecstasy of it.

They did not separate. Gin simply rolled onto his back, carefully pulling the blond atop him as the two panted for purchase on reality.

"Izuru," Gin whispered huskily, "ya gotta know, ya gotta know somethin'. Listenin'?" Long white fingers nervously tucked strands of blond behind the shell of a delicate ear.

"I'm listening," came the low and shy response. Trepidation strung those tired muscles tight and Izuru did not know if he had the fortitude to sort through a cryptic message at the moment.

Gin did not presently have the strength to arrange a riddle at the moment. Instead, he realized, in that still clear moonlight, that he was wading through the last moments of paradise, that he was on the very verge of reaping precisely what he had sown. Shortly, he would be gone, and Izuru would not understand why. Perhaps it would hurt him - destroy him - and Gin would be unfathomably alone in the white and barren kingdom of Sosuke Aizen. There wasn't one tree there that wasn't made of stone: the thought was enough to break a man.

Instead Gin swept his hand up over Izuru's back, bringing the light sheet over both of them.

"You're right 'bout things changin' - things're gonna change pretty soon. An' I can't tell ya anything about it now, but listen - I want ya t'know. This was always separate. It was never part a' anythin' else. This was always real."

And it might have been the only sincere thing he ever said, but that wasn't enough to stop Izuru's shoulders from sagging, the tears that followed, or the coldness that formed at that moment inside him, and never went away.

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**Thanks for the read and please review!**


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